


Bittersweet

by sweethaleia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Chronic Illness, Diabetes, M/M, Other, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Superhusbands (Marvel), Teen Peter Parker, Type 1 Diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweethaleia/pseuds/sweethaleia
Summary: Peter Parker has blood sugar issues.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 131





	1. Low

**Author's Note:**

> Peter has low blood sugar.

Peter was falling.

Or Peter was dreaming that he was falling until he wakes up in a start, safe on his bed. It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare, Peter tells himself. He glances at the clock on the nightstand, 2:43 a.m.

Just one of those countless nights he loses sleep in the middle of the night, and the next day he would have bags under his eyes because of those precious minutes of sleep lost. Peter runs his hands through his hair, move away the curls falling on his forehead, noticing his hair is wet, and his pajamas, as well as the sheets of his bed his wet.

Peter fumbles his hands on the nightstand searching for his phone and turning on the flashlight to see what the hell was going on. No, no, he hadn’t pissed himself, he was in a puddle of sweat, even though the air conditioning was on.

Peter has lived enough time with that illness to know what it all means, sweating, shakiness, and numbness of his lips. Peter reaches for his Dexcom, the screen comes up to life showing his current blood sugar number being transmitted by the sensor insert on his subcutaneous. 52 mg/dl, yeah, that’s not good, he’s low.

Being low in the middle of the night was always scary, knowing that if he didn’t wake up he could have a seizure or fall into a coma. Damn. He checked his blood sugar before sleeping, it was fine, a fucking 124 mg/dl was a good number to fall asleep, and still, here he was. He surely needed to mention that episode to his endocrinologist, maybe reduce his background insulin at night, anything. 

Before Peter could get up, Tony was opening his door, his phone in one of the hands. Peter sighed, looking at him while putting his slippers.

“I know. I know,” Peter mumbled, ignoring Tony at the door and going to the kitchen.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Tony said, behind him.

“I had a nightmare,” Peter replied, opening the fridge and getting a juice box, his lifesaver today. “I felt it, and checked my Dexcom, dad.”

Peter knew that in a hypoglycemia episode, he should consume 15g of carbs, any sweet with this quantity should help, however, juice boxes were his favorite treat. The grape juice box that he was holding, had 16g of carbs, more than enough. Also, liquid carbs were absorbed faster than others, which means that he could treat it and go back to sleep as soon as possible.

Tony rubs a hand on Peter’s back while the boy is sipping the content capable of saving his life tonight, Tony does not go back to bed, not until his son is fine. It was always like this since he was diagnosed when he was nine years old, his dad and pops were always there when he needed it, taking care of him.

“How’s school?” Tony asked when Peter finished the juice box.

“Huh, good. I got in the band,” Peter commented, remembering he had not yet told his dad about it.

“That’s great!” Tony seemed more excited than him and it made Peter smiles a bit. “When is your first presentation?” Tony teased the teenage boy.

“Dad, I still have a lot to learn,” Peter took his phone, counting 6 minutes since he drank the juice.

“I know, do you need anything? Have you told Steve about it?” Tony asked, leaning on the counter beside Peter.

“Yes, I told Pops,” Tony looked at him with a raised brow. “What? I asked him not to tell you because I wanted to tell you myself.”

Tony nodded and smiled proudly at him.

“Hey, by the way, I have this science project with Ned and MJ tomorrow, and I thought if they can come over here,” Peter said, he knew that Tony wouldn’t be at home to join them and even giving them a lesson about science things that Peter loved to hear. Well, at least, his Pops could bake them cookies, he loved his cookies, and from the moment Steve knew that Peter’s friends were coming, he would find any excuse to bake them cookies. Not something Peter would complain about, though.

Peter takes a glance at his phone again, 15 minutes. That was the time that the carbs he ingested took to turn in glucose in his blood, the sensor, though was embedded in his interstitial fluid, meaning that would take longer to his Dexcom follow the rise. Then, Peter puts a test strip in the glucometer and it comes to life, he pricks his finger and brings the machine closer to absorb the drop of blood. Five seconds, this was the time the glucometer took to give him an accurate reading. Peter blinks, and there is a number, 98 mg/dl. Peter knew that his blood sugar would still rise when the carbs were fully absorbed, but for now, he could go back to sleep, get himself ready to tackle another day of highs and lows.


	2. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has high blood sugar.

Peter wasn’t sure how many cookies he had, but he was sure that the insulin shot he gave himself earlier wouldn’t be enough to cover all those carbs. Also, he didn’t wait for the 15 minutes that the fast-acting insulin required to start making effects in his body.

Peter felt a little guilty for being so reckless, mainly, when his Pops separated and weighted all the ingredients to the cookie, just to make sure of how many carbs the whole recipe had so Peter could count the carbs correctly and keep his blood sugar in range. He was fine, though, Dexcom last reading said he was 134 mg/dl.

“Peter, I asked you to take your shoes off when you come home,” Steve said, entering the living room.

“Yeah, I’m doing it,” Peter replied, his eyes fixed on his phone while he texts MJ.

“You said that thirty minutes ago, Peter, your shoes are covered in dirt,” Steve argues, patiently.

“I told you I’m gonna do this. Fuck,” Peter took a long gulp from his water bottle on the coffee table, he already filled it twice in the last thirty minutes and still, his mouth was dry, his body was craving for freshwater, but no matter how much he drank he was still thirsty.

Steve stops in front of him, his hands on his hips ready to scold Peter.

“Language, kiddo,” Steve said. “Take your shoes off the coffee table now,” Steve insisted.

Peter sighed exasperatingly, untying his shoes and putting them aside as his Pops asked.

“Satisfied?” Peter raises a brow, his tone is petulant.

“Check you BG,” Steve pursued his lips.

“Wait, what? Why? I’m fine!” Peter argues.

“Check your BG, Peter,” Peter reached for his bag on the couch, looking for the Dexcom.

“No, not the Dexcom. Prick your finger,” Steve took the device from his hands.

“Damn it, I said I’m fine!” Peter shouted, annoyed by Steve’s request, even though he knew his Pops only wanted the best for him.

Peter does as he told, he pricks his finger and waits for the five seconds to get a result, his eyes widened when he saw a 302 mg/dl blinking on the screen. He’s high, he’s so high, no wonder he is angry and his thirsty don’t go away, he must’ve pissed at least three times in the last 35 minutes, that’s a lot.

Steve looked to the Dexcom screen showing a 132 mg/dl, right, his sensor wasn’t working properly and it was only seven days he puts it on, it must’ve lasted ten days. Now, he needed to make a sensor change and fixed his blood sugar. Steve sighed.

“How did you know?” Peter asked, looking for his insulin pens inside his bag.

“You always get annoyed when you’re high,” Steve explained. “3 units to correction, Peter, check it in two hours again.” Peter nodded, putting a new needle in the insulin pen and giving him a shot on his left arm.

“Yeah, ugh, sure,” Peter said, then he turned to Steve who was going in the kitchen’s direction. “Pops?” Steve stared at him. “I’m sorry.” Steve smiled.

“No need to apologize, kiddo,” he points to the bottle on the table. “Keep yourself hydrated, okay?”

“Yeah, hum, thanks, Pops,” Peter said, leaning back on the couch.

Well, it sucks, but he would be fine in two hours again, his blood sugar would eventually go back in range. Peter took a gulp from his bottle and stood up going to piss again. God, he hated hyperglycemia, and how it messes with his body. He’d be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have a few more ideas for this fic, tell me if you'd like me to post them.  
> Also, all those stories are based on my personal experience living with T1D since I was 18. Well, Peter at least has supportive parents. I don't use Dexcom, cause it is not approved in my country, so forgive if I misplaced any details about this sensor in particular.  
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://sweethaleia.tumblr.com/).  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
